


When the Doorman is Your Main Man

by DelenaStar



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, clueless science babies, college age, mentions hunter bobbi and daisy but they make no appearance, modern love au, this was supposed to be a one shot but then i thought what the heck i'm having fun, totally deviates from the actual source inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelenaStar/pseuds/DelenaStar
Summary: Going to university in Cambridge, MA, best friends and scientific collaborators Jemma and Fitz find themselves living just down the hall from each other in the same apartment building. But Fitz has trouble making ends meet, and ends up taking a part-time job as a doorman for the building. It's all well and good until Jemma finds her dates with perfectly nice men ending awkwardly in front of the building--why does his presence fluster her so?!Inspired by the episode of the same name from Modern Love, but deviates quickly from that plot.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. The Boring One

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd

“Milton, do you wanna kiss me good bye? Here?” Jemma flicked her eyes forward anxiously. “Now?”

“I—um, yes. I _was_ gonna walk you to your _door…_ I mean, you live on the corner.”

“ _Yes,_ but that’s _okay,_ you don’t even have to—you can just—do it here!”

Milton laughed, a bit confused. “Why? Is your dad waiting outside with a shotgun or something?”

Jemma faltered, chuckling nervously, blinking rapidly as she tried to stall long enough to come up with an excuse. “Oh, _kind of.”_ Not _really._ I mean, really more likely something more elegant, not to mention more _advanced_ than a shotgun, and Milton’s assessment of the situation neglected to address the fact that her doorman certainly would have designed whatever the weapon was _himself—_ oh. Right. Her doorman. Stay on track, Jemma.

“W-what?” Milton said, clearly flummoxed.

Jemma gave an overly loud, forced laugh, immediately regretted it and tried to cover it with a cough. “ _No._ ” They maintained eye contact for a tense moment, their steady pace slowing momentarily as she tried to keep the panic off her face. Why was she letting this fluster her so badly? Milton was a nice young man, really, albeit a boring one. And yet, she was positively horrified—and maybe a bit mortified—at the idea of _a certain someone_ bearing witness to the end of what was really an _alright_ date. “No, it’s just…it’s, uh…it’s Fitz.”

“Ah.”

“My doorman.” They came to a stop on the corner of the sidewalk now, just across the street from her building. Trying not to look at the man standing in front of said building, she averted her eyes back to Milton, who was starting to look frustrated as well as confused.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Milton removed his hands from his coat pockets and moved them out to his sides in an almost-shrug. “What does your doorman have to do with me kissing you goodnight?”

‘Well, well, I…” she gave up just then, casting a sidelong glance toward the building. “He’s more than a _doorman,_ it’s hard to explain, he’s become—well, he’s really—he’s my best friend, he just happens to _be_ my doorman as well. On the side. The title of doorman being…secondary. To that of best friend.” She pressed her lips together, well aware that Fitz was looking straight back at her. “Oh, _bollocks,_ ” she muttered. Raising a hand in weak greeting, she forced the smile back onto her face, before looking back at Milton. He seemed...unimpressed, and was really being awfully cavalier about the whole situation—you know, maybe that whole goodnight kiss thing was a bad idea. Nothing to do with Fitz being _right there,_ of course, it was just that...well, one date was enough if he wasn’t going to take what she said seriously!

Milton raised a hand in mock salute, staring straight at Fitz, who only stared blankly back. “Oh _God,_ don’t do _that!”_

“Why not?” Milton said, stepping towards her, clearly trying to circle back around to the proposal she'd made just moments ago.

Jemma laughed nervously as he placed his hand on her waist, and ducked out of his hold. Getting the message that she'd changed her mind, Milton stood back, raising his hands slightly in defeat. “I don’t get it, is—is it important to you, what he thinks?” Milton’s frustration was starting to morph into hurt, and Jemma grimaced, wringing her hands with a twinge of guilt.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s not—“ Jemma looked down at her feet, then back up at him, her face set with a look of resolve. “Look, thanks for tonight, I had a nice time, but, um, this isn’t really...what I'm looking for right now.” She hesitated, then stepped forward and awkwardly gave him a peck on the cheek. “Sorry. Look, I’ll hail you a cab, I—“ she looked to the side just then and stopped as she saw Fitz already doing just that, pointing in her direction. “Oh, he already did.” She added the last part on weakly, watching as the cab driver maneuvered over to their side of the street. Looking back at Milton, she felt another twinge of guilt at the look of disappointment on his face. “Good night, Milton.”

He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly trying to figure out what she was really thinking. Eventually, he gave up, leaning forward to open the back door to the cab. He stopped half inside the vehicle, though, and turned back to her, frowning. “Good night, Jemma. I hope you find…whatever it is you _are_ looking for.” Shaking his head slightly, he got into the vehicle.

Jemma watched as the taxi pulled away, once again wringing her hands anxiously. Finally, with a bit of a huff, she looked both ways and crossed the street, deciding to focus on the sound of her uncomfortable date night heels clicking on the pavement instead of looking at Fitz. Fitz, who was the picture of professionalism, standing in front of her building in a comfortable stance, his hands clasped behind his back. As she reached the opposite sidewalk, she finally looked up, pasting one last smile on her face. Just a few more steps, and she was home free—she could take a bath and forget this evening ever happened. “Good night, Fitz.” A curt nod, and certainly he would get the message. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation right now, she could just walk on and—

“How was your date with _cabbage head Milton?_ ”

Jemma gritted her teeth, stopping in place. After allowing herself a brief moment to wonder _why why why,_ she turned to him with a sigh of defeat. “It was fine, thank you for asking.” She was surprised, though, to actually see an expression of—was that concern? Protectiveness?—on Fitz’s face, where she’d rather expected to see a snide one to match his feelings about Milton. Tilting her head slightly, she pursed her lips for a moment before asking, “Why do you dislike him so much? Really, Fitz, he’s not a bad sort, he’s…fine.”

Fitz tilted his head, too—was he mirroring her?—and said, his tone this time matching his expression, “That’s exactly why. I didn’t have to say he’s boring, you said it yourself. You’re not supposed to go out with people who you think are just _fine,_ you’re supposed to go out with people who…invigorate you. Make you feel like yourself.” He looked at her then, really looked at her, and his blue eyes were more vulnerable than she’d ever seen them when discussing this topic. The moment was over as soon as it started, though, and he reverted to his dismissive attitude toward Milton. “Besides, he’s really a weak character. Never stands up for himself, always depends on authority figures like a college age tattle-tale.”

Jemma scowled. “How presumptuous of you. You’ve never actually met him, you know.”

Fitz smirked slightly. “No, of course not. I’ve just gathered this information from your own observations of him.” He looked at her, his expression just _challenging_ her to deny it. God, what she wouldn’t do to wipe that smug expression off his face. But she didn’t have to—he dropped it after a moment, seeming to take pity on her as her façade melted away and true exhaustion started to show through. “Sorry, Jem. I’m not _really_ trying to be an arse, you know I just want what’s best for you.”

Jemma nodded. “Thank you, Fitz, and I know you mean well, but _I_ know what’s best for me.” It was his turn to nod, but he looked down at his feet as he did so, his lips pressed together in what she assumed what was frustration…or was it resignation? She frowned, unused to finding him unreadable, but brushed the feeling off and continued. “That being said, I did decide it was best if Milton and I did not go on a second date.” Fitz raised his head at that, a boyish smile on his face. Jemma felt a strange flutter in her chest. “Like I said, he’s perfectly nice,” Fitz rolled his eyes at that statement, “but you’re right. I shouldn’t settle for less.”

Something flickered over his face at her final statement, an expression she hadn’t seen before—but it was gone before she had a chance to form a hypothesis, and then he was nudging her with his elbow and smiling. “Hey, why don’t we study together tomorrow, get some takeout, have a Doctor Who night? You deserve to have more to say for the whole weekend than a failed date with Cabbage Head Milton.”

“Ugh, Fitz!”


	2. The One Who Is Really Quite A Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

Will grinned, lightly brushing his right hand against Jemma’s, where it rested in the crook of his left arm. “So you’re about to graduate _Harvard_ with _two PhDs?_ Damn, I really lucked out getting a date with a woman who’s beautiful _and_ a genius.”

He was walking her home, and she was leaning into his warm, solid side, and all in all this evening was turning out much better than her previous date night. In the weeks since, she’d begun to feel bad for ending things so quickly with Milton—he was a nice guy, after all, and through her overthinking, her memory of their date had faded to a general sense of a reasonably pleasant evening. But then she’d run into a notably _handsome_ man named Will at a coffee shop, and decided to take a leap of faith in accepting his spur of the moment offer of a date. After all, she’d reasoned, Fitz had encouraged her to date someone who _excited_ her, and what’s more exciting than perfect strangers? In any case, the outing was certainly no disappointment, and her memory of her date with Milton paled in comparison to the fun she was having this evening.

“Oh, well, getting a date with a handsome bloody _astronaut_ is no disappointing thing, either!” Jemma gushed in response, blushing. Will laughed, placing his hand on hers again, and leaving it there this time. “I had…a _very_ nice time tonight, Will.”

They were almost to the street corner right across from her building, and he stopped as he turned to look at her, his arm sliding out from her hold to tuck her hair behind her ear instead. Fitz was off work tonight—he was studying, she knew. She found she couldn’t decide whether or not she was happy that he wasn’t the doorman on duty. She did _not_ miss the pressure of her dates coming to their end in front of her best friend, but she did miss just…seeing him at the end of the night.

“So did I,” Will said, bringing her back to the moment. He was _looking_ at her, his eyes rather warm, and she decided it was bloody well time she rectified the loss of that _good night kiss_. Not to mention how eager she was to end her dry spell, as it were. So, not allowing herself enough time to overthink it, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Not missing a beat, Will’s free arm came to wrap around her waist, tugging her closer as he deepened the kiss.

A long moment later, Jemma broke away with a small gasp, giggling slightly in his grasp. “Would—“ she cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

~

When Jemma woke the next morning, she found the bed cold and empty beside her. Frowning, she swallowed her disappointment at the idea of being left alone, reasoning that he was probably using the loo. Swinging her bare legs over the side of the bed, she padded out into the hallway. “Will?” she called quietly as she looked around her flat. Hearing no answer, she was just about to give into her disappointment when she thought she heard two familiar male voices through the open window of her living room. She only lived on the second story, and her living room faced the road just off to the side of the main entrance to her building, so maybe— _yes!_ A grin broke over her face as she peeked out the window to see Fitz, on duty, apparently having a chat with Will, who appeared to be carrying coffee and _a pastry box!_ Of course, she always preferred to have a balanced breakfast before indulging in sweets or empty carbs—and she didn’t drink coffee, no less—but it was _awfully_ thoughtful, not to mention gentlemanly, of Will to go out of his way like this. Who knows, maybe he remembered from their meeting that she’d been drinking tea. Though if he didn’t, that would be alright, she reasoned as she continued to hawk over their conversation. Not everyone knew each other’s beverages as perfectly as she and Fitz did, of course—oh god. Fitz. He was probably criticizing Will’s purchases as she watched, knowing Jemma’s preferences as well as he did his own. Jemma grimaced, hoping Fitz wouldn’t manage to turn Will off with his negativity.

She didn’t get much of a chance to worry, though, as Will then moved out of sight, and she was scrambling to the entryway to answer the buzzer. _“Morning, babe!”_ Will’s voice crackled over the receiver once she’d picked it up. She cringed only slightly at the pet name. _“I thought I’d surprise you, I ran down the street for croissants and coffee!”_

“Oh how _sweet_ of you, Will! I’ll buzz you in,” she responded, feigning what she thought of as the sultry voice of a woman used to being fetched pastries the morning after first date sex. She ended up sounding more like a tired smoker, but didn’t allow herself time to overthink it, instead setting the receiver back in his holder on the wall and spinning around to give herself a once over in the hall mirror. She neatened her hair, giving her armpits a sniff-check even though she’d just spent the bloody _night_ next to the man—and on top of him, she thought smugly. She eyed herself with a bit of pride—she rather thought she looked like she’d jumped out of a romance movie, wearing nothing but a rumpled button down shirt and her second-sexiest pair of underwear(her first sexiest pair had gotten chucked across the room the night prior).

The buzzer sounded again, startling her out of her self-congratulating stupor, and she whipped around again, yanking the receiver off its holder in her excitement. “Did you not get in?” she asked in a friendly tone, not bothering with the faux sex goddess tone this time.

 _“I don’t like him, Jemma,”_ said an all-too-familiar Scottish voice.

Groaning in frustration, Jemma slumped against wall. “Oh, come on! You only met him for thirty seconds! What is it this time? Weak character again?”

 _“He brought you_ coffee, _Jemma! It didn’t even occur to his arrogant American self that maybe the beautiful Brit he’d wooed over Thai food would prefer tea like any self-respecting person should.”_

Jemma scowled, feeling _distinctly_ bothered, so much so that she barely noticed Fitz calling her _beautiful._ Barely. “You say he ‘ _wooed_ ’ me like it’s a _bad_ thing. He’s a gentleman, Fitz. Can’t I enjoy feeling appreciated without you grumbling in my ear like a prat for once? Besides, we only met this week, he doesn’t have to know my every preference already.” She heard a knock at the door, and cut off the retort she was sure Fitz was crafting. “Now, I’m going to go enjoy some morning croissants with a sexy _bloody astronaut!_ ” Nodding with satisfaction, she slammed the receiver back onto its holder and made her way to the door.

Will flashed her a grin when she opened the door, and held up the pastry box. “Croissants, as promised. And,” he paused to place a quick kiss on her mouth. “Since we met in a coffee shop, I thought it was only fitting I grab coffees while I was out.”

Jemma smiled up at him, trying to ignore the sour feeling left behind by her brief conversation with Fitz. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Will, thank you! Come in, please.” She stepped out of the way, letting him inside before closing the door behind her and following him into the living room.

“I stopped and talked with the doorman. God, what a funny guy. What is he, Irish? Anyways, he had all sorts of questions about what I was doing, coming and going so early.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose as Will chuckled to himself, setting his burdens on the coffee table. “Scottish, you mean.”

Will looked up at her, pausing with his hand in the pastry box. “What?”

“Fitz. He’s Scottish.”

“Oh! God, sorry, I must seem like an arrogant American ass.”

Jemma blinked, startled by his response. He sounded genuinely sorry, and she moved to sit next to him, reminded by his coincidentally familiar wording that she did _not_ want to treat him the way Fitz had over the phone. “It’s alright, honestly. I suppose the mix up is understandable if you’re not familiar with the UK. Anyways, you know, Fitz is actually not just the _doorman_ —not that there’s anything wrong with being a doorman, of course, but he’s actually just temporarily in the job to pay his bills while he finishes his studies in engineering at MIT.” She felt the need to defend Fitz, even if she was feeling rather cross with him at the moment.

“You know him well, then?” Will handed her one of the coffees, and she sipped it, trying not to grimace at the taste.

“Oh, yes, he’s my best friend, actually. Fitz and I met in our sophomore year as undergrads at a party, through a mutual friend, Hunter, and soon after ended up in a couple classes together due to cross-registration. We were already close friends by the time he got a job here. I was actually the one who recommended him, since I knew he was looking for a part time job and the building was hiring. He—“ she cut herself off, flushing. “Gosh, sorry, I don’t mean to be rambling about another man. Not that me and Fitz are _like that,_ of course, but—still.” _Stop talking, Jemma!_

Will laughed, though he looked a bit thoughtful for whatever reason. “It’s okay, I like hearing you talk about your life.” He watched as she took another sip of her coffee, not hiding her expression much better this time when she set the cup back down on her coffee table. “Do you…not like coffee?”

Jemma cringed slightly, laughing and covering her face partially with one hand. “Sorry! I only drink tea! It was _so_ sweet of you to think of me, though!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Will assured her, sounding, to his credit, like he actually meant it. “My fault, I guess, for not noticing that you probably had a tea bag hanging out of your cup at the coffee shop.” He grinned, looking a bit flirtatious. “Maybe I was a bit distracted by how gorgeous you looked.”

Jemma flushed, looking down at her hands. _See, Fitz?_ she thought. _He’s a gentleman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you're wondering, i did double check that mit and harvard allow their students to collaborate like that. apparently since they're just down the street from each other, it's not totally uncommon to sample classes through "cross-registration", and there's even a program through both schools on biomedical engineering. that's kind of perfect for fitzsimmons, but i decided that since it wasn't the main focus of this fic, i didn't want to complicate things by working something so specific into the story.


	3. In Fact, He's Literally Out of This World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I hope you like it. We're officially done with other guys after this, so get ready for the angsty finale!
> 
> unbeta'd

For the next two weeks, Will continued to woo Jemma. He seemed positively perfect—smart, thoughtful, funny. More than once, it occurred to her that maybe she should include Fitz in one of their outings—she was rather enjoying Will’s company, after all, and if he was going to continue to be a part of her life, she’d rather like him to be familiar with her friends. But each time it occurred to her, she quickly dismissed the idea, fearing that Fitz wouldn’t be able to resist acting reproachful toward Will. It did leave her with the distinct feeling that she was putting off the inevitable, but she just…didn’t want to go there. She wasn’t the only one contemplating Fitz, though.

“I _may_ or may have not accidentally left a cat liver next to his lunch when we were in the lab one day. Fitz is _positively_ squeamish, and he had a right fit about it! Turned green at the gills!” Jemma laughed at the memory, adjusting to a more comfortable position on her couch and draining her glass of wine. While they did go to different schools primarily, she and Fitz had discovered when sampling classes at each other’s respective schools that they had notably compatible minds, and their professors loved to see what they could accomplish when working together. That was why, even when they did not have overlapping classes, they regularly collaborated on passion projects when they had the time apart from their studies. Those occasions had become less frequent ever since Fitz had started working, and Jemma did miss their collaborations, but there was nothing to be done about it. Besides, they both made every effort that they could to cut out time for each other.

Lost in thought, Jemma was a bit startled to notice that Will was watching her very closely, his expression distinctly pensive. “What?” she asked, flushing.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Jemma frowned. “Of course. He’s my best friend.”

Will chuckled. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

Feeling strangely defensive, she straightened. “No, I don’t.”

Will cocked his head, and the look he gave her felt uncomfortably patronizing. “Jemma, his name is like your favorite word.”

Gritting her teeth, Jemma retorted, “Well, I’ll have you know that he and I both had trouble making friends growing up, so we value each other’s friendship greatly. But if it bothers you so much, fine—I’ll try to stop mentioning him _quite so often._ ” With that, she stood up, taking their wine glasses to the kitchen. A voice in the back of her head nagged at her, questioning why she cared so much about Will’s insinuations, and only frustrated her further. He apologized later for pressing the subject, and she apologized in turn for snapping at him—but he’d planted the seed in her head, and so she kept catching herself about to mention Fitz. Her conversations with Will grew quite stilted as a result. He did not stay over that evening.

~

Aside from that particular conversation, which Jemma found herself trying to forget about, their relationship was quite nice. In fact, that was just about the only argument they ever had, if it could even be classified as an argument at all. Everything seemed to be going so smoothly—too smoothly, Jemma thought, though she felt bad for thinking it—until one late afternoon, it all came to a grinding halt.

Jemma had been sitting at home catching up on the latest copy of Science Magazine, enjoying some peaceful alone time and a cup of tea, when she received a text from Will asking if she could meet up. She agreed to meet him, slightly perplexed due to the fact that they rarely spent time together two days in a row, but nonetheless unopposed to an outing. When she got to the coffee shop they’d agreed on, though, she quickly deduced from his subdued demeanor that this was not a standard date.

A half hour later, she returned to her apartment building in a bit of a daze.

“Back so soon?” Jemma looked up at the sound of Fitz’s voice, and watched as a look of concern came over his face when he saw her own. “Jemma, are you alright? Did something happen?”

“I…” Jemma pressed her lips together in a grimace. Actually, she _was_ alright. Shocked, maybe, but she felt completely fine. Which was maybe why she looked so downtrodden—she and Will had been getting along rather well, hadn’t they? So why didn’t she feel more bothered by his news? She chose not to address that question, though, and instead focused on the other one. “Well, as it turns out, Will was recruited by NASA for some mysterious mission he is unable to tell me anything about. He’s leaving the city _tomorrow._ No idea when he’ll be back, and so he essentially told me not to wait for him. I suppose it was inevitable that he would leave eventually, since I was perfectly aware of his profession, but I guess I just…didn’t think it would be quite so sudden, let alone so _final._ ”

“Oh. _Wow._ Jemma, I’m sorry.” They hadn’t been speaking much ever since their conversation the morning after Jemma’s first date with Will, and so Jemma was surprised to see that he genuinely seemed to be sorry.

 _He has a heart, you know,_ she reminded herself. _Just because he didn’t like Will doesn’t mean he’s gonna be an arse about him leaving out of the blue._

Still, Jemma warmed slightly knowing that maybe she and Fitz were on better terms than she’d come to think. “It’s alright, really. Will’s nice, but I think maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Fitz nodded. “Well, my shift is over in an hour. Let me know if you want me to buy you ice cream to cry into. Even if it wasn’t meant to be, it’s still a break up.”

Jemma smiled at that. “Thanks, Fitz, that sounds nice.”

Jemma spent most of the next hour leaning dazedly against her kitchen counter as she remembered her conversation with Will.

_“It’s completely classified, I can’t tell you what we’ll be doing, but…there isn’t an end date, Jemma. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”_

_Jemma was silent for a long moment, her mouth slightly agape. “Well, I’m sorry to see you go, but…that’s an incredible opportunity, Will. Truly. Congratulations. Whatever it is, it sounds like quite a big step in your career.”_

Their conversation from then on was brief and polite. It seemed that neither of them was particularly heartbroken by their parting. Nevertheless, the last thing he’d said had left Jemma positively stumped.

_They were standing in front of the coffee shop. They’d already said goodbye, sharing a brief, lukewarm hug, and he’d already begun to turn and go—but he paused at the last second, and turned back to her as though he had something important to say. “I just hope that…now that I’m out of the way, I hope you and Fitz figure it out. You two clearly really love each other. I know, I know, you’re best friends. But I hope you’ll give it some thought. Sometimes we just don’t see what’s right in front of us.”_


	4. The One She Really Wasn't Expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If you just read the previous chapters for the first time, continue on and enjoy the finale!
> 
> For those of you who may have read chapters 1-3 with the context of the original plot: whoops! You may have noticed from this three month hiatus that it simply wasn't working out. This is no longer a baby fic! I hope this final chapter flows well with the others despite how long I waited to write the second part!!
> 
> That's all! I hope you enjoy this final chapter! I wrote it on a whim today, I really like it. :)
> 
> unbeta'd (feel free to point out any typos you might spot, hehe!)

A month passes, and Jemma hardly ever thinks of Will. In fact, she’s so busy focusing on her dissertation that she almost manages to forget about the last thing he’d said to her. Then, before she knows it, it’s all over.

“Can you believe it, Jem? We’ve done it. You’ve got two PhDs, I’ve got one and a half.” Jemma resisted rolling her eyes at Fitz’s implication that a person could have _half_ of a PhD, instead pondering what he said next. “We bloody well made it.”

They were lying on the lawn in front of Aldrich Hall, looking up at the stars. It was a tradition of theirs—sometimes they liked to just take a walk and lie down there without even discussing it. Usually there were a few other stragglers on the lawn, that night included, but somehow it always managed to feel like their own little world. Everything else melted away—it was just Jemma, lying there with her best friend, staring up at a sky that had somehow been there for her longer than he had, a concept that felt strange to her.

“I know,” Jemma whispered. “I can’t believe we’re moving on to the next chapter already.” She turned her head to look at him, and tried her best to ignore how striking his profile was in the moonlight. Taking an admittedly shaky breath, she suddenly said, “Thank you for always being there for me, Fitz. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but…I really can’t imagine my life without you. You’re my best friend in the world.”

Fitz turned his head to meet her gaze, awe and an incredible amount of affection lining his every feature as he listened to her. When he finally responded, his voice was a little hoarse. “I feel the same way.” He gently clasped her hand for a brief moment, before letting it go and returning his gaze to the sky. Following suit, Jemma tried her best to ignore the way her hand tingled in wake of his touch, just as she tried to ignore the warmth swelling in her chest.

Alright, so maybe she hadn’t forgotten Will’s words quite yet.

~

Lost in thought, Jemma was practically silent for the rest of the night, first as they continued to lay under the stars and then as they walked back to their building. In a quiet mood himself, Fitz didn’t seem to notice all that much—after all, with the heavy mix of exhaustion and various emotions they were both experiencing in light of their graduation, it was perfectly understandable to not have much to say. But as they stood in the apartment elevator together, the silence seemed to take on a new feeling, perhaps because the calming night sounds of the city outdoors had been replaced by the dull hum of the moving elevator. Jemma heard Fitz take a breath as though to say something, when suddenly the doors dinged loudly and opened. The pair stepped out of the elevator and paused for a beat; their apartments were in opposite directions down the hallway.

“Goodnight, Fitz.” Jemma finally broke the silence, too much cheer in her voice for the tension of the situation.

For a moment, Fitz said nothing, instead scanning her face, though she would not look at him. “Yeah, good night. I—“ he stopped himself, from whatever he was about to say. “Sleep well.”

Jemma met his eyes for the first time since they’d laid on the grass earlier that night.

Thoughts swirled in her head, scenarios, paths forward—the immediate and obvious decisions, and how they would affect her life. They’d graduated. Before long, they would find jobs—close together, if they were lucky. Fitz was…everything to her. She’d never known a better friend.

Friend.

That was how it suddenly became clear to her, as they looked at each other, hands unnaturally still at their sides; no matter what they did now, no matter what path she took, this was forever changed. Because of how her perception of him had shifted—damn Will, he’d been right, and she’d been a fool not to have seen it before—they were at a crossroads. These moments, and their future as it lay before her, were utterly defining.

“Right,” Jemma said, breaking the silence. Another beat. “Goodnight.” She turned on her heel, and walked briskly down the hallway. As she turned her key in the lock, she watched in her peripheral vision as Fitz finally turned away from her and walked in the other direction.

Jemma quickly closed the door and discarded her things on the entry table, uncharacteristically toeing off her shoes and leaving them in a heap before walking into the apartment. She found herself pacing the length of the living room, frowning, eyes unseeing.

She thought for a moment to call her mother—or maybe Daisy, or Bobbi. But she made no move to grab her phone. Instead, she turned and marched straight into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and setting about making herself a cup of tea. She opened the cupboard, and stopped—there, at the front of the shelf, sat Fitz’s favorite mug. He’d come over in the morning a couple days ago, when she’d called him on a whim, needing his comfort as she spiraled thinking about graduation and their futures. That was a bit of a theme with her these days. Normally, they would make tea together in their respective homes if they hung out, but she’d called him when he’d just finished making his own, and he just walked out the door with it in his hand. She remembered how sweet he had looked in his blue flannel pyjama pants and white t-shirt, his curls rumpled with sleep and his expression concerned from her call. She’d seen him in such a state plenty of times before, but like most things with Fitz, it simply felt _different_ now.

Shaking her head at herself, Jemma grabbed the mug next to it and set it on the counter, placed a teabag in it, then leaned up against the counter herself as she waited for the water to boil. Only, this reminded her of Fitz as well—she was taken back suddenly to just a month ago, when she’d leaned against this same counter, unable to think of anything except Will’s words.

_You two clearly really love each other._

The kettle started to whistle obnoxiously just then, startling Jemma.

_I know, I know, you’re best friends._

She turned the kettle off and poured the steaming water into her mug, then set the kettle back down.

_But I hope you’ll give it some thought._

Jemma stared into her steeping tea for a long moment, then yanked the cupboard back open. Fitz’s mug stared right back at her.

_Sometimes we just don’t see what’s right in front of us._

Jemma grabbed the mug, and marched out of the kitchen. She grabbed her key off the entry table, and opened her door, having just enough sense to lock it behind her. She tucked the key in her pocket as she walked down the hallway quickly, practically jogging in her haste. She came to a halt in front of Fitz’s door. She hesitated—only for a moment—then knocked.

She heard Fitz’s footsteps as he came to the door promptly, swinging it open and standing before her. She looked him over—it seemed he hadn’t gotten much farther in his evening routine than she had. Wearing the same jeans and t-shirt as before, he stood before her in socked feet, and she heard his kettle start to whistle a few rooms away. She smiled, and held his mug out to him. “Oh, it seems I have perfect timing!” Jemma said, her voice faltering slightly with nerves.

Looking perplexed, Fitz accepted the mug, never taking his eyes off hers. “Yeah…thanks.” After a moment of silence, he began, “Do you want to come in, or—“

“I love you.” Jemma interrupted him hastily, and took a shuddering breath. “I’m _in love_ with you, Fitz.”

Fitz’s eyes widened, his mouth openly and closing silently. “I—“ he croaked, his voice failing him. For an awful moment, fear started to take hold of Jemma, a sickening feeling finding it’s way into her stomach—god, she’d gotten it all wrong, hadn’t she?

It happened so fast. Fitz turned around, setting his mug on his own entry table. He turned back to her, closing the distance between them in two strides. One of his hands rose to cradle the back of her head, the other touching her cheek gently. Jemma had only a second of realization, as she took a sharp breath, before his lips met hers.

Jemma met his sweet, gentle urgency with passion, her arms immediately winding their way around his neck as she molded herself to him. His hands moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her ever closer as he deepened the kiss, and Jemma whimpered slightly in surprise. Whoever knew that Fitz was such a confident kisser?

After a long moment, they parted, both gasping slightly. Tucking a stray hair behind Jemma’s ear, Fitz whispered, “I love you, too.”

Jemma’s eyes flitted open to meet his, and she saw a familiar expression on his face. She touched his cheek, remembering the first time she’d noticed him look at her that way—she hadn’t been able to put a name to it then, but she knew it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! <3


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